


Dance With the Devil

by casey270



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Other, Recreational Drug Use, wish gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam's infamous psychedelic experience in the desert, told the way I want it to be. Did i mention that drugs are involved?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance With the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posting old fic. This one was from 4/2011, and was written for the first round of the Cockbert Big Bang. The artwork was done by Miazilla, and can be found [here](http://miazilla.livejournal.com/19989.html)

IN THE DESERT YOU CAN REMEMBER YOUR NAME

 

The sun is always brighter in the desert. It’s always harder and less forgiving too. The desert sun doesn’t lie.

 

There’s something ruthless in the way the sun glares off the sand. Adam knows there’s very little mercy in the desert, not that he’s really looking for any. All he wants is what he thinks he deserves, a little fucking justice, maybe. But the desert is short on justice, too, so maybe he’s looking for a little help, a small break that he can catch and squeeze through in order to find what he needs. Sometimes it seems like no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t catch that break. And sometimes he feels like trying this hard is going to break him.

 

Adam acknowledges all the truths the desert sun shows him. The clarity of his vision has never been this acute before. There’s no point in denying any of it. He wants to find love in his life and be able to keep it. So far all he’s been able to find is one failed relationship after another. He was sure he’d found forever with Brad, but even as good as that was, it’d managed to slip through his fingers. He knows there’s someone out there that can make him happy, complete him. He’s just not sure how the hell he’s supposed to find him.

 

What he wants is for the world, or at least a small part of it, to recognize that he has the talent to perform. He’s not really into false modesty. He knows he can sing, but how the hell can he prove it when he’s stuck at the back of the stage, just a member of the ensemble. He wants a little respect. He wants the world to see all he has to offer, but he knows that until he makes a name for himself the world will try to hide him in that little box that keeps him from spreading his wings, and it’s just not fucking fair. It’s not fair because he’s got wings like nobody else. Everyone keeps telling him that he can’t be himself until he achieves a certain level of success, but he can’t not be himself in order to gain it. He can’t hide who he is any more than he can change who he is. He doesn’t want success to come with such a high price tag: giving up who he is. He wants so damn bad to make things happen, but the more he pushes, the more doors close for him.

 

He wants some nod from the universe confirming that he’s making the right decisions in his life, but all he gets are walls and labels. Beyond his circle of close friends, the labels are all anyone sees. They never see him.

 

The desert sun keeps his thoughts in the never-ending loop of I can’t. The mountains are just too high for him to climb, the rivers too wide to cross. If he could just catch one fucking break, it would all work out.

 

He’s on the downswing from last night’s party, and, yeah, maybe he wouldn’t feel like such a fucking failure if there weren’t still so many chemicals messing with his mind. But then he thinks that maybe this is exactly what he does need. He needs to face the reality of his failures without making excuses. He needs to find a way; he needs to find his way. He sure as hell can’t keep going on like this, expecting his big break to come out of nowhere, because it just isn’t fucking happening. He’s got to find a way to make that break happen. And, yeah, maybe he’s feeling a little too emotional and shit in the harsh light of the sun, but he can‘t see a clear path to what he wants, what he needs.

 

He sits in the hot sun, his mind exploring one plan of action after another. Each time he thinks he has a workable solution, he sees the flaw hidden deep inside. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to make anything work in his head. How the hell is he supposed to find a solution to a problem that shouldn’t exist in the first place? He needs to find a way to break free, but he has no idea where in hell to look for it.

 

His fingers do a slow roll around the last tab of the four way left over from the party last night. If he can’t see the answers on his own, maybe a little enlightening would help. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

 

He feels the gel slowly dissolving on his tongue as he walks through the hard landscape. Looking back at the temporary town behind him, he sees all his hopes and dreams shimmering like a mirage in the desert sun. He’s no closer to finding the answers he needs than he was before.

 

In a fit of despair driven frustration, Adam utters the words that will change his life forever. “I would sell my soul to the devil himself just to get a fucking break.”

 

And maybe it’s the chemicals, or maybe it’s not, but the sudden feeling of nausea that accompanies a shift from reality makes him throw his arms out to try and find something to steady himself.

 

But there’s nothing to catch hold of, and he’s falling but not falling. He’s almost floating, but that’s not quite right either. There is some kind of movement around him; he just can’t tell what direction it’s taking him. Anticipation keeps him from fighting the flow. It's anticipation on a near cellular level; an anticipation he's never before experienced.

 

When his world stops moving, he’s surprised to find himself in a very normal looking room, if normal is a secret code for straight out of a designer’s showroom. And he would normally question this shift of scene and setting, but his cultural conditioning and neural wiring always dissolve when he trips, and he can redefine his situation based on what and who he is internally. The words make sense to him right then, because he only has to sense their rhythm, to see their flow, not sort them out logically. He decides to flow with the vision, wherever it may take him.

 

This is the room of his dreams; modern without being sterile, bold splashes of color that grab the eye without offending it, and a look that tells everyone that no small amount of money made it what it is. He thinks to himself that this room was made for him, or he was made for this room. It represents everything he wants his life to be, but fears it never will.

 

He turns slowly, trying to take it all in. The small, tasteful touches aren’t lost on him. He wants to memorize every detail in order to replicate it if opportunity ever presents itself. As he comes full circle, he jumps when he sees a man standing in front of him, like it’s some new age Alfred Hitchcock camera trick. Startled, he bursts out with, “Fuck, where’d you come from?” before he remembers his manners. “Sorry, man,” he says by way of recovery, “but you scared the shit outta me. And just how in hell did I get here, and where the hell is here, anyway?”

 

With a voice smoother than chocolate silk, the stranger answers him. "Where the hell, indeed. I do like the way you turn a phrase, boy."

 

Reaching out a hand to lay lightly against Adams cheek, which is a shock in and of itself--because, seriously, who does that?-- the stranger says, “Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m a man of many names, but it would probably be easiest for you to call me Lou. I think Lucifer is too formal, and Satan is wrong on so many levels. That one’s really taken on a negative connotation with you humans over the years. No, I think something smooth and sexy fits this occasion best.”

 

Adam looks at him like he’s out of his fucking mind. Not only is he somewhere that he absolutely can’t be, but now some crazy-ass, yet insanely hot, man is trying to get him to believe he’s the devil incarnate.

 

Yeah, so not happening.

 

Adam tells the man in front of him, who Adam’s almost entirely positive isn’t really there to begin with, “That must have been the good shit I took, because everything here feels so fucking real. But it can't be real. I'm still sitting in the desert, probably staring at the sun, burning my fucking eyes out right now.”

 

The devil has a smirk and a twinkle like Adam’s never seen, and uses both when he answers. "Maybe you should trust your initial instinct, because I assure you that everything you see is completely real. But then, I would say that if I were a figment of your imagination, wouldn’t I? Self-preservation would necessitate it." As the devil runs a finger down his cheek, Adam feels the stirrings of desire, but it's a need that builds faster and stronger than he's ever felt before. He makes a mental note to remember who he'd gotten this acid from, because this is intense, and he has a short list of people he'd really like to share an experience like this with.

 

Not one to give it up easily, Adam says, "You seriously expect me to believe you're the devil and not just some manifestation of my overwrought mind? I was feeling pretty damn dramatic a few minutes ago. I'm the first to admit it. I have my diva moments. Maybe tripping out in the middle of one wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but I still have enough self-awareness to question the impossible happening, and this is impossible. Nice, but impossible"

 

Lou's eyes travel up and down Adam's body, doing a slow appraisal of what they see. He runs his tongue suggestively over his lips before he replies, "If none of this is real, you have nothing to fear, do you? You can simply agree to give me your soul right now as you wished in recompense for a ‘fucking break’, I believe were your words. Your word, uttered in my presence, is a perfectly binding contract as far as I'm concerned. If I am indeed a figment of your imagination - a hallucination, if you will - you have nothing to worry about. You would only be facilitating a particularly vivid lucid dream, would you not? You might even enjoy it, boy."

 

Taking a minute to look at the man before him, Adam’s taken aback by the total package of the stranger. The man is handsome in a timeless way that makes Adam feel he would be hard-pressed in trying to pinpoint his age. There are a few strands of salt in his pepper, but Adam thinks maybe they’re simply for effect, and Adam really likes the effect. This Lou has grace and the bearing of someone who’s accustomed to having the finer things in life, looking as if he’s used to always getting what he wants. Adam congratulates himself on conjuring up a totally tantalizing tidbit for his vision of Lucifer. He thinks that if he’s going to bring Satan to life, he’s glad he did it right.

 

“So, just what does selling my soul to you involve?” Adam asks, because he’s feeling more than simple curiosity about this apparition. He wants to touch and feel and experience. He wants to run his hands over the skin that he can see, that he swears looks positively oiled and slick. He wants to explore the areas hidden by the perfectly tailored suit that his new, and probably imaginary, friend is wearing. He wants to see if this byproduct of better living through chemicals tastes as good as he looks.

 

But Adam finds himself holding back, and that’s totally not like him. He gave up holding out, hanging back, a long time ago. He usually reaches out for what he wants, but this maybe-man in front of him - he said to call him Lou, right? - takes all of Adam’s power away and replaces it with a need that’s so deeply ingrained that it feels as if Adam’s been living with it his whole life. This might not be real, but Adam’s not quite ready to get back to reality.

 

Lou looks at him in a way that makes Adam think of nothing but hot, hot sex, and Adam feels his knees go weak and his palms go sweaty. He sees the look of a predator in Lou’s eyes, and it rocks and shocks him all the way down. Adam can feel the want growing at the same time his fear grows, and Lou’s words don’t help him keep either one under control. “You would be my plaything for eternity, boy. You would be mine to do with however I see fit. You would do whatever I wish you to do. You would feel whatever I wish you to feel.”

 

Adam is lost then, lost in a vision so strong he can't really think of it as anything but real. He feels the stirring of desire, the flames of passion. He feels hands, and lips, and tongues moving all over his body. He experiences a want so great it drains everything from him. He needs to give up his humanity to this man, in exchange for the pleasure he knows is waiting on the other side. All too soon the vision fades, and Adam is left panting, looking into the face of Lou.

 

“I can give you that…and more,” Lou’s voice whispers, reading his mind, and, yeah, Adam’s just on the verge of agreeing when he realizes something. There’s just the slightest chance that this isn’t all a manifestation of some repressed part of his brain. Not that he believes in Hell, or Satan, or Lucifer, or whatever he wants to call himself, but what if he’s not just fucked up from the drugs? What if this is real? Or at least as real as it can be? Is he willing to give up forever in exchange for a few good years? Even if the years are really, really good years, would it be worth it? A small voice inside his head tells him that it might be a good idea to hedge his bets a little, to modify the offer put out there.

 

What he thinks he’ll see in Lou’s eyes makes Adam uneasy, or maybe it’s some preservation instinct deep down inside himself, but he can’t look directly into those eyes again. Looking into Lou’s eyes makes him feel things, things he’s not sure he wants to feel. When he looks too deeply into Lou’s eyes he feels all the threads of his life weaving into one writhing and sensual tapestry. He feels a want and a desire to give up all the taboos he’s holding. Nothing is forbidden, and he’s almost salivating over everything that’s suddenly laid open to him.

 

He has to admit that he wants at least a small part of the sample he was permitted. What he saw is just too tempting to dismiss altogether. Lou sees right through the sorry, but no, because he recognizes he’s got a hook in Adam, and it’s in deep. Satan smiles a secret smile that tells Adam he knows that no man can resist temptation once given a taste of it’s addictive sweetness, and the devil likes to play. Whether he’s playing with eternity or a human lifetime, his self-assurance shows Adam that Satan knows they all come back for more once they have that first taste.

 

The devil’s hand runs over Adam’s cheek and jaw line and Lou's smile turns into a leer as he reacts to the tremors running through Adam’s body, settling a possessive grasp around Adam’s neck. It’s a move of power and passion, and it's a move that Adam fully intends to remember and use often in the future.

 

“I don’t give up easily, and you certainly would be quite a prize,” Lou says, tightening his grip slightly, “so I am willing to negotiate. You may have a moderate degree of what you are looking for in exchange for a shorter time commitment. Would that be more suitable?”

 

Adam swallows with an audible click and closes his eyes before he gives away too much. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he lets his nod answer for him. Lou’s hand cradles Adam’s cheek, Adam involuntarily nuzzling into it. The touch sparks desire in him, and Adam loses himself in its dark seduction. He feels vulnerable, totally at this man’s mercy. He feels the trail of icy drops run down his spine as Lou says, "Speak, boy. You must answer me using your own words."

 

His breath is as shaky as his heartbeat, and he barely manages a whispered yes in answer to the devil's command before the touch and the spell both are broken.

 

Recovering from the overwhelming feelings of that moment, Adam asks, “What are you offering, and what exactly are you asking in return?” Adam wants to draw this out as long as he can. He’s never met anyone more compelling and if this is just some reaction to his acid trip, treating the situation as real will keep Adam in this dreamlike state for as long as it takes for the effects to wear off. And if this genuinely is happening, well, fuck, then he wants to be careful and have as much information and leverage as possible.

 

Lou circles Adam slowly as he answers, his hand never losing contact with Adam. As the devil's fingers do a slow drag across the back of Adam’s neck, he finally understands the old saying about feeling someone walking over your grave. “Time bends to my will. I can make a single instant last an eternity if I wish it so, so I think one night of your life will be sufficient.” Hearing the low chuckle that bubbles up from deep within the devil’s own throat causes a shiver to creep down Adam’s spine, and he finds that he’s instantly hard and leaking.

 

Seeing the wicked smirk on Lou’s face, Adam can only guess there’s going to be a catch, and he’s right. The next thing Lou tells him brings his brain back into the situation; before it had just been his dick that seemed to be making his decisions, but now he has to actually think. Lou stops right in front of Adam and says the words that carry so much pressure. “I think I’ll let you decide your own reward, boy. Would you rather find success in your career, or find love? Would the unconditional love of one person be more important to you than the adoration of thousands or even millions?”

 

Lou’s upraised eyebrow testifies to his genuine interest in Adam’s answer, but Adam can’t give him a quick reply. The answer to this question is important. He knows there’s soul-searching to be done before he knows how to respond. Would he rather have fame and fortune, or does he crave love more? Is the validation he would get from having the world acknowledge his talent be more important than having that one special person to share his life? How can he put more importance on either one? The answer to that question will give him more insight into his own mind than any consciousness-enlightening drug ever could, but he can’t come up with any decision, so he whispers, “Please, can’t I have both? I'll give you whatever you want tonight if I can just have both.”

 

Adam doesn’t know if he’s found a way into the devil’s heart, or if this is one of the devil’s twisted games, but Lou smiles and says, “I’m always open to compromise, my friend. Since you’re giving me yourself for a limited time, I’ll give you what you want, but with similar limits. Something will always remain out of reach. You’ll have success in both career and love, but never the ultimate success you could have had.” The knowing, satisfied look in Lou's eyes tells Adam everything he needs to know; he's played himself right into the devil's hands.

 

Lou moves closer to him, and Adam can feel the heat radiating and reverberating between them. He’s never needed anything as much as he needs the touch of this man. It’s not as simple as desire or even lust. He’s been through both of those enough times to recognize them for what they are when he feels them. This is something more, something new, and he has no words to describe it, no frame of reference to help put it into perspective.

 

Adam wants so badly to reach out, to feel this man and all he’s offering, but his body’s not cooperating with his mind right now. He’s turning into a quivering mass of want and sensation, and there’s noting he can do except take whatever Lou decides to give him. The torture of it is sweet and terrible, and still Adam wouldn’t trade a second of it. Every nerve in his body is humming with the overloaded charge of desire, yet he can do nothing but stand and wait for what comes his way.

 

Just when he thinks he can’t take another second, Lou brushes his lips against Adam’s, and even the perfectly designed setting is gone. Nothing is left but sensory overload. Every neural path in his body sings a song that’s instantly written in his soul. He feels the teasing touch of Lou’s tongue on his mouth and opens greedily, hoping for the taste of ecstasy. His need isn’t diminished by the contact, but grows beyond what he believes possible. He hears words being spoken, unsure where they are coming from. His mind is too focused on Lou’s kiss that’s turned so very dirty. “Open your eyes, boy. I want to see what you feel.”

 

Adam can no more disobey than he can turn back time, so he opens his eyes that are dark and glazed, pupils blown wide. He looks directly into Lou’s and sees himself being worshipped and ravaged by this man. He sees his deepest, darkest repressed desires playing out before him. Some part of him wants to hide from what he’s learning about himself, but if he's honest - and he most certainly is - he has to admit that he's excited as hell.

 

There’s another shift in whatever non-reality he’s living in, and he’s floating on a river of desire so deep he could drown. There’s no end to the depths of this desire, and he knows without this man-who-isn’t-a-man holding him just at the surface, he would give in and let this primordial wanting engulf him.

 

Their lips meet in another deep, dirty kiss, and Adam knows that this river of desire is not only flowing around him, but inside of him as well. The whole of the river crashes into him on the tip of Lucifer’s tongue, and Adam has no choice but to recognize it as his own desire. The wet hot slide of it slips over his skin and makes him want something more, something substantial. The icy heat of pure lust makes him crave the slow burn of fulfillment. He closes his eyes again and moans out the word “Please.”

 

Lucifer knows what he needs, because Lucifer always knows the darkest desires of man, and his hands are at once on Adam’s body. Adam winces at the first touch. He feels the heat branding him, marking him as the devil’s own. The fingers tease their way down his side, leaving trails of fiery heat that he finds more exciting than terrifying. There’s a sense of something ancient and primeval in Lou's touch that connects with a want that’s buried so deeply inside of him that he wasn’t even aware of its existence. Adam finds himself drifting to its very center.

 

Lucifer is talking to him, his voice dark and sultry, telling him to unleash the desire he feels. The words are almost chant-like, and each syllable pulls Adam further into a world filled with lust and sensuality. Every cell in his body is crying out for contact and stimulation, and the hands that are caressing him seem determined to find each nerve ending and give it what it desires. It’s too much, yet not enough.

 

The contact and the burn go on forever as the two float on the river of dark water through what seems like eternity. He feels himself growing old and shriveling to a husk and then coming back to himself only to repeat it all. Eons flow past them on the banks of the river and worlds build and crumble, but still it continues. Adam takes it all in, existing on the brink of infinity.

 

He can’t fight the feelings the hands and the heat bring out, and he doesn’t want to. He wants to lose himself in those feelings and live in them forever, but then the intensity ratchets up another notch, and he knows he can’t survive at this level much longer. The revision to their agreement guarantees his eventual release, so he knows things are going to change. Change is good, he tells himself. Maybe then he'll remember to fucking breathe again.

 

Adam feels the shift again, and he finds himself cushioned by quintessential clouds of ether. He senses all of creation before him, opening itself for him to pluck the secrets of the universe, but he can’t focus on anything other than the terrible beauty approaching him. Lucifer has finally decided to reveal all that he is to Adam, and Adam has no choice but to wallow in the glory that he beholds.

 

Adam pulls a quick, shaky breath as Lucifer comes closer. He stays where he’s been placed. His skin burns to be touched, and Adam sighs in elation as Lucifer lays his long body along his own. He knows that shit just got real and this is for keeps, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He moans into the devil’s mouth as Lucifer caresses his body with reverence, never rushing, fingers leaving imprints of pleasure that transcend normal consciousness.

 

Adam watches as the devil reaches for his dick, not flinching away from the contact, but arching into it. This level of stimulation and arousal will never be possible again. He wants to soak up every sensation, remember each touch.

 

He encourages Lucifer to give him more, to prolong and enhance the contact, and recognizes another sin making itself known: greed. His body meets the devil half way, and he feels the heat and electricity run through his cock. Lucifer runs his hand from base to tip, and Adam thinks he must be leaking enough pre-cum to fill the river they just left. He watches in fascination as Lucifer gathers it up and uses it to lube his fingers.

 

The devil uses one hand to stroke down his neck and across his chest, distracting Adam from his other hand. Adam sighs in contentment as Lou’s fingers slink between his legs, but quickly has a moment of blind panic as fingers tightly squeeze his sac. It’s a small reminder that he’s not in charge here; he’s completely at the devil's mercy. He can’t help but wonder what the hell he's gotten himself into, but then the devil's fingers are making their way inside of him and the enormity of what’s happening hits Adam hard. There's no fucking way he can bring himself stop this. He's pretty damned sure he doesn't want to stop this in any case.

 

His fear blends so well with his want and need that Adam can't separate them. He's lost in a world of wanton decadence, and that's all right with him. Lust may be a sin, but so is pride. He's not about to give up the lust right now, but he can give pride a pass. Why the hell does he need pride when allowing himself to be the devil's plaything feels so fucking good? Right now he would agree to anything Satan wanted if it would mean prolonging this. Adam knows; he can feel it in the way his body burns and yearns for this and the way that Lucifer responds to him, that someday the devil will ask this of him again. Adam knows there will be no hesitation. He will go willingly.

 

He feels his ego and his cock being stroked in tandem as Lucifer tells him that he looks ravishing and ready to be ravished. Adam is laid out before him, ready to take whatever the devil decides to give him, finding a strange trust in this situation. There's no sane way to explain it, but then little about this encounter falls into that category.

 

Adam hopes there’s something beyond the normal recruiting of souls for the devil’s army going on here. Then he remembers the look of desire that came over the devil’s face when they first met, and his ego swells with the idea that yeah, the devil desires him; he turns Lucifer on. Satan fucking has the need to fuck him.

If this were purely about living up to their agreement, settling a payment, Lou wouldn’t care about making it good for him, intending for Adam to equally enjoy what is taking place between them. Adam wouldn’t be allowed see the look of pleasure cross Lou’s face every time a moan makes it past Adam’s lips, would he?

Knowing that he’s an object of desire, and not just another conquest for Satan, makes everything so much better. Adam gives a little more of himself, determined to make it as good for his partner as it is for him.

 

With the devil's finger inside of him, it's a whole new existence. This is not his first rodeo, but he's never even imagined the heights of sensation he's feeling right now. Lucifer adds a second finger, then a third, and Adam feels over stimulated, yet he needs more. He needs to find friction to quench the fire that’s building inside.

 

Then Lucifer manages to hit that spot, and Adam can swear he sees glory. He feels the lightness and pressure of pure elemental personification. His cock twitches in the devil’s hand and Adam feels his orgasm coiling inside him, but the low, smooth words that flow from Satan’s mouth stop him. “Not yet, boy. We still have time, and I’m not done with you.”

 

Adam already feels wrecked and ruined and wet and spent, but he still needs more. He’s just not sure how much more he can bear. Lucifer decides to prolong this sweet torture by giving him more in small stages. First the devil lets his long, hot tongue draw trails of fire down Adam’s neck and over his chest. By the time Adam feels the burn reach his nipple, he’s panting in anticipation. He’s not disappointed as he feels Lucifer suck and tug and nip at the rock hard nub. Adam’s hands work their way into Satan’s hair, trying to pull the devil even closer, possibly right inside Adam’s own self.

 

Adam’s close to laughing at the metaphoric level of this vision, or hallucination, or whatever this is, but it quickly turns into a deep moan as the devil removes his fingers from his body and the need to be filled overwhelms him. He begs, “Fuck me, please,” because, yeah, that pride thing - it’s so not happening for him. But then he screams, “Fuck me now!” because he’s still who he is, and he gets what he wants.

 

A tremor of anticipation runs all the way through him, and Adam sees Lucifer soak it in and feed on it, and he discovers giving the devil pleasure is a bigger turn-on than he thought it could be.

 

“Only too happy to oblige, boy,” Satan answers, and Adam can feel the devil’s hard cock nudging him, ready to bring this vision home.

 

Lucifer may have ideas of being a considerate lover, but Adam’s at the end of his patience. There’s been enough buildup, enough teasing to last him an eternity. He might be bottoming for the devil, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to wait any longer.

 

Adam impales himself on the devil’s cock, and he feels a stretch that almost tears him apart. And almost is the operative word, because this whole thing, this vision, or dream or whatever it is, is all about almosts. The burn is unlike he’s ever felt before because there’s real heat and fire scorching him from the inside out. There’s pain, but it’s pain he’s been craving since this crazy ride started. The pain only adds to the pleasure, and Adam wants to milk as much of both as he can. Every song he’s ever sung resounds in his mind, and he’ll offer them all to Lucifer if he can just bring him home on this.

 

With a moan sounding from the very depths of hell, Lucifer starts moving. Hearing such wanton sounds of pleasure and lust come from Satan’s mouth, and knowing that he’s the one drawing them out, empowers Adam. He starts rocking in time to Lucifer’s thrusts, and they move in a seductive dance in the pale moonlight.

 

Adam can feel the tension in his middle building like a spring that’s wound too tightly. He knows he’s not far from coming, but he doesn’t want this to end. He’s lost in the sensation of the devil slipping in and out of him, the smoothness of Lucifer’s hand stripping up and down his cock, the trail of fire Satan’s tongue leaves on his sensitive skin.

 

Just when he thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust from the vortex of delight, Lucifer tells him, “It’s time, boy.” Adam then realizes that the devil's permission was necessary before he would be allowed come. Now that he has it, he explodes with all the pent up prowess of the Nephilim. Streams of his cum coat his stomach, as he feels the slide of the devil’s skin as each hard thrust paints it deeper into his belly.

 

Adam’s lost in a blissed out place in his own world, but the devil isn’t quite finished. Satan must be paid his due, and Adam’s overly sensitized body has to find the resources to guarantee that payment. Adam is twitching and jerking to a discordant dance now, as the devil finishes what was started so long ago under the desert sun.

Pain is starting to replace the pleasure faster than Adam cares for, but he feels Lucifer stutter in his rhythm, and knows Satan will be coming quickly. He isn’t expecting his reaction when it does happen though. He knows he shouldn’t expect the expected when it comes to the devil, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

 

He feels the sudden rush of heat entering his body - because the devil, yeah, he doesn’t believe in condoms, apparently - and that’s along the lines of what Adam expects. But what he doesn’t expect, what takes him completely by surprise, is the power and pride he feels in giving Lucifer pleasure. He should have known that he couldn’t avoid that pride thing forever.

 

He feels like he’s fucking swelling with pride when the devil acknowledges his name.

 

When Satan comes, he screams Adam’s name for all eternity to hear. It’s loud enough to imprint itself in Adam’s mind. It’s a sound he’ll never forget, and somehow Adam knows that it means the devil will never forget him.

 

When they’re lying together, both spent and fucked out, Adam’s surprised to learn that Satan is a secret cuddler. They lay entwined in post-coital bliss, and Adam can’t help but notice how Lucifer’s hands try to rub soothing, possessive circles on Adam’s body, and how the devil nuzzles at the warm spot on Adam’s neck. Adam thinks that maybe, just maybe the devil’s not such a bad guy after all; maybe the guy just needs a little more love in his life, or his existence, or whatever the devil has. But then from what Adam's just been through, he knows the devil takes what he wants and has no shortage of willing worshippers.

 

All too soon, Lucifer sits up, breaking the lazy contact between them. He tells Adam, “I appreciate the enthusiasm with which you met your part of the bargain. I can assure you that I will meet mine. You will have success in your endeavors, just not complete success. You will find love and adoration in your life, but not the fairytale love you’ve been looking for. The world will recognize your talent, but because of the perfection of that talent some will be frightened of it and reject you out of that fear. But in appreciation of your exuberance, I’ve thrown in an extra little gift. Whenever you sing, whenever you give voice to the emotions that are within yourself, you will feel the stirrings of what happened here. The eros of tonight will manifest from your voice, and it will be transmitted to those who hear you.”

 

With one last stroke down Adam’s chest, Lucifer says, “Our time is over for now, Adam. You will return to whence you came, to make of this encounter what you will. You carry a part of me now, and if you decide in the future that you do want it all, and not just the almost, you know how to find me.” Satan’s smirk tells Adam he is confident that there will be a next time, and Adam can’t wait. That sin of greed is making itself known again. Next time, Adam’s going to ask for more than just one night. Because he knows - and he knows that Satan knows, as well - that Adam will never be satisfied with less than all. He'll keep pushing for perfection because that's who he is. When the torment of almost makes his life a living hell, he knows he'll look for Lou again.

 

 

This night seems as if it’s gone on forever, and Adam suddenly feels more than just tired. He's worn out and worn down like he's never been before, but he smiles as his eyes close, because this has been the best sex he’s ever had…or never had; he’s not really sure anymore. All he knows is that the party last night was good, and apparently so were the drugs.


End file.
